


Lena Luthor Defeats the Justice League

by alephthirteen



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alien Biology, Amassing Power Through "Fine Dining", Bottom!Cat, Boxed Lunches, Bruce Wayne Losing His Shit, Clark Kent Blushing, Demonology But Sexy Demonology, F/F, Gay Drama for Fun and Profit, Is It Hard to Beg on Your Knees in that Short Skirt?, Juicy Peaches, Kara Danvers is Having a Rough Time, Kryptonian Culture & Customs, Kryptonian Evolution, Lena Collects Superheroines, Lena's Superpower is Lesbianism, Magic, Some People Collect Baseball Cards, Supervillians Too, The Lasso of Truth is a Flexible Tool, Top!Kara, top!Lena, top!diana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26200612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alephthirteen/pseuds/alephthirteen
Summary: "Cat, darling!"Startled, Cat gets up so fast that only the boy's exhaustion keeps him asleep.  Lena is here, which is Lena breaking a rule and since Cat isn't tied to anything, or bent over anything, or leaving a stain on anything it's probably bad news.She heads into the entryway where she finds Lena, dressed to the nines except for a pair of Vans rather than her Louboutins."Hi," Cat manages.She fully blames Lois Lane. One night.  One Then this temptress moves into National City -- Cat's city -- and gaydar Cat wasn't sure the had lights up so hard she actually blacked out."Heard you fired an assistant, kitty.""I, ah..."Lena laughs."Cat, it's your business to run.  I don't demandthatfrom you."She holds out a tablet."I want to help you pick a new one."The hell are these, models?Cat wonders."All of these girls are 4.0 GPAs, clean personal backgrounds and in my opinion, something to keep you warm when I'm away on business..."There's literally a section titled "Blondes" in the file.Cat stabs a finger into one of the pictures."Her."Lena grins.  A bit too much.
Comments: 29
Kudos: 59





	1. Corned Beef and Chastity Belts

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I decided to read "The Sewing Circle" for shits and giggles and it makes me think of the Tumblr thirst tags for Katie McGrath.

"Cat, darling!"

Startled, Cat gets up so fast that only the Carter's exhaustion keeps him asleep. First day of second grade took a lot out of her little man. Lena is here, which is Lena breaking a rule and since Cat isn't tied to anything, or bent over anything, or leaving a stain on anything it's probably bad news. She swallows, hard.

She heads into the entryway where she finds Lena, dressed to the nines except for a pair of Vans rather than her Louboutins.

"Hi," Cat manages.

She fully blames Lois Lane. One fling with the second-most capable reporter at Harvard's student paper and her curiosity was piqued. Four marriages to men did little more than give her plausible deniability. Then this temptress moves into National City -- Cat's city -- and gaydar Cat wasn't sure the had lights up so hard she actually blacked out when Lena whispered to her in the boardroom. Lena made Cat take _notes_. She put her through _training_ until she _proved herself_ by cutting a swath through the escorts, starlets, musicians and clit-teases of Southern California. 

Lena invited Cat to brunch in a restaurant that is so empty the wait staff are gone. With coos and kisses on the cheek, she led Cat to the ladies and clipped a chastity belt around her. At the table, two corned beef sandwiches and a hotel key sat between them. The snarled 'fuck me' in that accent damn near killed Cat and then she discovered that Lena can just turn it on and off. Cat simmered overnight and when she woke, Lena sent her spiraling with a few messy strokes and a soothing hand on her brow. 

She could probably patent the process if she wanted. The Luthor Method of Reinforcing Female Homosexuality.

"Heard you fired an assistant, kitty."

"I, ah..."

Lena laughs.

"Cat, it's your business to run. Professionally, you've always been one of my role models and you know I don't demand _that_ sort of obedience from you."

She holds out a tablet.

"I want to help you pick a new one. A keeper, not one of those dishonest little climbers you hire so you can fire them guilt-free when you're having a bad day. You have the worst taste in assistants, love. Charmingly hopeless..."

Cat blushes. A woman half her age made her blush. Because she teased her. Her kimono is full coverage and the nightshirt is modest. Lena's rules regarding actual underwear still make this a ticking clock situation.

"All of these girls are 4.0 GPAs, clean personal backgrounds and in my opinion, something to keep you warm when I'm away on business..."

 _Where the hell is she finding these girls, Vogue photo shoots?_ Cat wonders.

They're not cookie cutter. There's soft ones that Cat wants to burrow in. There's petite ones that even Cat could throw around the bedroom. There's lean ones who would practically have to kneel to kiss Cat. There's literally a preset on the search tab titled "Blondes" and the social media profiles of each are tagged along with something called their AO3 tag. Something which Cat has never heard of.

Cat stabs a finger into one of the pictures.

"Her."

Lena grins. A bit too widely. She leans in close.

"Danvers? You little _thief_...I was going to take her for Jess' backup," she teases. "Shall we celebrate?"

"Panic room!" Cat blurts out. "I, uh, put a bed in there."

Lena laughs.

"Did you?"

"Yes. Besides the sleeping cots. Had it, uh, expanded, too."

"And there's a camera, I assume, so we can make sure your little one is well?"

Cat nods. Lena tosses the tablet in the umbrella basket and steps close. Her hand traces down the side of Cat's ribcage and follows the bones of her pelvis around to the front.

"Are you wet for me, kitty?"

"Soon," Cat croaks. 

"Frankly, I'm surprised I'm not dripping on the floor," Cat admits. "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."

"Mmm. Your flesh is fine, love."

Lena's palm cups her mound.

"I do love older women...always a challenge."

* * *

Diana's gait is the most distinctive of any man or woman he's ever met. Somewhere between the performative strut of a runway model and the quiet, lazy pace of a big cat.

"You wanted to see me, Bruce?"

"Batman."

"Bruce."

"Batman."

"Bruce."

Clark chuckles in the corner, stuffing more popcorn in his mouth.

"Do we need to separate you," Flash jokes. "So the class can learn?"

Batman lays out the photos.

"Mmm," Diana muses. "Jess' ass looks amazing in that one."

Black Lightning spit-takes his coffee and unfortunately for Cyborg, his powers flare up with it. Two sugars one cream and half a million volts.

"Lena Luthor plus you, coffee date. Sketchpad."

"You plus Jessica Cruz, entering a motel that rents by the hour."

"You plus Thunder, same motel."

"There, there, buddy..." Flash sighs, patting Black Lightning's back. "I mean, Anissa never stood a chance."

"You plus Zatanna."

"Vegas, that time. She had a comped room," Diana reports. "Fates, those sheets were soft."

_Fucking Amazon! Is she so shameless?_

"Harley Quinn. Poison Ivy." 

"Package deal, naturally. I don't see what the problem is, Bruce. I left you Catwoman," she reminds him.

"Enchantress."

"Witches are queer culture."

"The demoness Eteria."

"Two words: heated...granite...tail."

"Three words!" Flash points out.

"See? This is why Barry's the funny one, Bruce."

"Killer Frost."

"Unreal temperature play. Did you know she can keep only her tong _-"_

"Stop!" Clark squeaks.

"Why are you fucking every woman in the Justice League, Diana? Do you have any idea of the conflict of interest you're creating?"

Diana rolls her eyes. A two-millennia old god _rolls her eyes_ at him. 

"I'm doing no such thing."

"In the field, they won't follow orders. Too many personal entanglements."

DIana sighs.

"Bruce, have you ever heard of the Battle of Kyhtia? Major invasion of southern Greece in the second century BC."

"No."

"That's because three nights before it happened, someone sacked temple of Artemis. Our most sacred Patron bar aphrodite herself. The next night was a new moon. Thirty-two Amazons stormed the camp. All of them either wives or lovers. Warbonded we call it. Outnumbered a hundred to one and if those ships had landed, five hundred to one. The Persian king sailed up, saw his entire advance fleet in flames and the water slicked with the blood of his men and the locals picking gold from their tormentor's corpses. The army that did the deed? Vanished. LIke magic. So he turned around. Every single one of those women came back. Love makes us strong, Bruce, not weak. A lover in danger can make one man fight like a hundred."

"Besides which, I can reach my darlings quicker than you can and they're..."

She smiles.

"Inclined to answer. At any given moment, five to ten of our members and some of our enemies are working on a project together. Without the need for an alien invasion to unify them. I don't get between, Bruce. Dinah and Ollie have something amazing. So do Jefferson and his wife, you and that thief you claim you don't actually love. Flash and Iris. I'm giving Kate space to figure out which Gotham PD detective is the lucky girl. There are entirely too many straights around here if you ask me. I'm just gathering up the singles and making them feel special."

"Oh, and his cousin hasn't joined yet," Diana jokes, tossing a nod towards Clark. "I do it because I can, we enjoy it and because she..."

Diana taps Lena's picture.

"Brings out the best in me. Lena Luthor would make a fine queen for Themiscyira one day."

Clark faints to the deck, spilling popcorn everywhere and making the whole station tremble.

"Fist bump!" Flash cackles. "Never change, gorgeous."

Diana returns it. She turns back to Bruce. Arms folded and glowering. Her left index finger tapping on the pommel of her sword. The one Justice League member he doesn't have a solid counter for.

"If you're done relitigating the heteronormativity of Man's World, I have a date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This all started at the Metropolis Museum of Art during an antiquities display. Diana was guest speaker and Lena never goes home from a night out without a good meal...


	2. The Ten-Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Kara are roomies. There was an incident in college involving an art professor, a cellist, Kara, a golf cart, copious alcohol and shoplifted strap-ons. Eliza feels better knowing that Alex is there so that she can assure her Kara's not truly in danger...

**Kara**

"I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!" Kara shrieks.

Alex pokes her head out of her office.

"Sis, chill. It's Cat Grant. Word on the street is she goes through staff like bubble gum. If you're two minutes late, she can't be picky about it unless she wants to start _over_ with rehiring. And no flying!"

"Aww!"

"Look, I get that it's fun but I actually had to call a favor in with someone at the university to get the FAA records squashed. So unless you want to get a pilot's license for yourself and explaining _which aircraft_ you trained on? Don't, OK?"

"Fine."

"I can see you pouting from here," Alex teases as she sits, two rooms away, head down in her patient's charts.

She's right, too. Kara is pouting and she knows it.

"Fine. Pizza?"

"Pizza! Love you!"

\-----

CatCo Tower is, without question, the most _extra_ building Kara has seen on twelve different planets. The first forty floors are a steel shaft like any skyscraper, then for twenty floors, the shape becomes more fluid, tapering, organic. Then the building is capped with a panther. The front half of a forty-floor beast, made of molded steel with some patented impurity that makes it bluish grey, like a Siamese cat's paws.

The only windows up that high are the 'collar' of executive offices and Cat's office is capped with a domed skylight of bottle-green glass. Her desk was placed dead-center of the skylight.

The woman herself is the tag on the cat's collar.

Feeling lighter than before she stepped off the bus, Kara walks up to the front desk. A man the size of two refrigerators set side by side is at it, watching monitors and pecking at the keyboard with his chunky fingers.

_Clever, clever, clever._

"I'm here to apply for a job. Interview, I mean. Sorry. Bit nervous," Kara admits.

"Which department?"

"Cat Grant's assistant, actually."

He whistles.

"Glutton for punishment, huh?"

Kara shrugs.

He slides over a visitor's badge.

"Listen, uh, if they need to, I let Cat's PAs cry in the breakroom when she fires them."

She raises her eyebrow.

"Alone! Nothing improper. Just, sort of how I'm made, y'know? Can't see that and not want to do what I can."

Kara clips the visitor's badge on.

"Well, you're very sweet. And I would expect nothing less of a Paladin of Selayn."

Turning away from the sputtering guard, Kara heads for the elevators.

It hits her just after she pushes the button for the hundredth floor.

_Wonder what they're like in female phase? Damn..._

"Really need to get laid," she tells the steel walls of the car.

\-----

"Miss Grant, good morning!" Kara chirps, hand outstretched.

Cat turns her chair away and watches the bank of TVs behind her.

"I told them not to send any more millennials. You are the ult-"

"I thought interrupting people and demeaning life challenges was more of a male microaggression," Kara replies.

Cat Grant's first words were meant to stop Kara cold. Kara had joined message boards packed with her former assistants. She offered solace and advice but mostly, she was hunting for tips.

"Hmm... Very well. Why are you here, ten-fifteen?"

"I want to be useful. I told myself, well, I can get a job editing web ads, or writing magazine copy, or advising small businesses. That doesn't move the needle, though. Be thirty years before I was at a point of my career where it moved the needle."

Cat turns and raises her eyebrow.

"And?"

Kara fiddles with her glasses just enough to check the room.

"If I help someone already at the _pinnacle_ and if I support them? I move the needle. If your..."

_Lexapro. Lie._

"If, say, I get your allergy medication filled because you're too busy and that means a story gets written the right way because you weren't sick? Moves the needle. If I make sure your pen has ink in it when you're inviting a head of state and it gets you an interview? Moves the needle."

Cat scoffs and reaches for her pen.

"The little gear at the top of those pops out when they're empty," Kara tells her. "Fountain pen. I do have my weird fandoms, being a millennial. Always wanted a Thames Cog, myself. The steampunk one."

Cat clicks the empty pen a couple times. She adjusts the keyboard of her laptop. Curious as to what the preferred implements of Cat Grant are, Kara cheats. In doing so, she gets a view of a lovely aluminum and glass desk, the pair of shoes tucked away, Cat's bare feet and a pencil skirt by Armani with nothing under it.

"Oh my," she mumbles, trying to stuff her glasses farther up her face. Maybe mash them into her eyes.

"Yes," Cat hums. "You may fawn at my good graces. Your desk is on the right. Go answer my phones. Chop chop!"

* * *

**Lena**

"Lena!" Carter exclaims, colliding with her face first.

"Why, hello," she chortles.

"You smell like my mom," he laughs.

"Well, ah, I..."

Carter laughs into the buttons of her blazer.

"I do notice things. That's my whole problem, noticing too much."

Lena kneels down.

"Carter, being on the spectrum is a _trait,_ not a fault, OK? Like your dad's hair or your mom's eyes."

Cat pads around the corner. She mouths the word 'trouble' to Lena.

Lena nods, glancing to Carter, then Cat, then to herself.

Cat's eyes go wide. Lena smirks. The blush starts Cat's collarbone and climbs up. It is so delicious that Lena stays the night.


	3. Pacing Oneself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Kara is going to be toppier, hornier, more of a seductress, and just way more sexually active than my previous tellings.

**Alex**

"Fuck..my...life," Alex groans.

Shoving herself back from her laptop, she feels a lance of pain in her left leg. Not from this student's _atrocious_ understanding of what constitutes good science but from her own apparent failure to understand biology. Blood circulation. Learned it, live it, love it. After an embarrassing amount of rubbing, she makes it to the door. 

Which is stuck.

Alex jiggles the knob and puts her shoulder against it.

"Oww..." someone groans.

Alex lays down on the floor and looks through the crack. A golden-skinned female face is pressed against the carpet on the other side, all glassy brown eyes, well-used lips and sticky curls of black hair.

"Do you know what day it is?" Alex teases.

"M'fucked..."

"I can see that."

"S'good fucking..."

"I'd rather not have details," Alex jokes back. "Can you get off the floor, gorgeous?"

"Ugh. Don't wanna."

 _"_ I can make pancakes."

"Pancakes!" the woman gasps. "M'getting up."

After several adorable, comical noises on the other side, the door opens.

"Oh...you're...naked," Alex gulps, backpedaling and fishing for the closet door.

"Right. Sorry. There was a issue with my clothes. Just ripped right off."

"Yeah, uh, sorry."

The stranger laughs.

"Don't be. Because damn."

The hoodie is taken out of her hands and she waits until she hears the zipper to open her eyes.

"Hi."

"Hi," the woman jokes, wiggling her fingers.

"Alex, right?"

"Yeah, how'd you..."

"There might've been a point where I had my panties in my mouth because I would wake Alex."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Jesus Christ, what is your sister made of? It was like...fuck. I don't know. It was like fucking the surface of the sun, or getting eaten out by a hurricane or something. "

"She's not my sister."

"Uh-huh. Cool story bro."

"It's true."

The woman cocks her head and puts a hand on her hip and in so doing, drags the hoodie up a bit too far. Alex can see dried juices and hickeys in a neat line from calf to thigh.

"Well, judging as how you look like you want to take a bite out of me and you're _not fucking_ her, I'm going with sister. Only reason a gay woman wouldn't. I mean, it's like ten feet. And this apartment has lots of horizontals."

"Please stop," Alex whimpers.

"I'll stop for pancakes."

=====

The strange woman did, in fact, stop for pancakes. Which only helps Alex so much. Worse, there are two equally blitzed fuck buddies are on the couch, one male and one female and the spent, soggy condom is still attached. That strange, skin-prickling spice is in the air, meaning Kara is flaring up again. Some ancient defense mechanism later artificially honed by the high houses for _eons_ to ensure their line endured. If she doesn't find a male partner, her body is more than happy to send an embryo into any female partner, Kryptonian or otherwise. 

Her scent, her movements, her voice...all of it tuned and adjusted by her subconscious to draw the most possible attention from prospective mates. It must have been beyond formidable on Krypton, all that genius applied to finding a bedmate. Adding the supersenses she gained under a yellow sun makes Kara able to tune her flirtation as fast as her supersenses can gather information about the response and her superfast muscles can move. Damn near irresistible to anyone but the strongest willed or her family. That wasn't automatic. Alex didn't so much 'come out' as get thrown out of the closet the first time Kara flared.

Fortunately, she has the universe's best wing woman.

Kryptonians in heat made for one hell of a PhD thesis and one hell of an awkward rooming situation.

_How the fuck am I going to tell this girl?_

"Hi, uh..." Alex stammers. "actually, what is your name?"

"Lucy Lane, at your service!" 

The woman fires off such a crisp, quick salute that Alex wonders if she's military. 

"Are..." Alex begins. She swallows a rock that somehow found itself in her throat. "Any relation to _Lois_ Lane?"

The woman voice drops and she mutters a stream of profanity.

_Yup. Military._

"So, Lucy, are you bi or..."

She nods.

"But I haven't had sex with men in like, a year. Who would right? With her handy? I'm actually stationed at Fort Sam Houston so, whenever I'm free, I pop by."

"Uh-huh. You gonna be functional for duty, soldier?" Alex jokes.

"God, I hope not! She's gotta get off work eventually, right?"

Alex exhales, loudly.

_Well, if she does end up preggers with a Kryptonian, at least her sister can give her nursing tips._

"So," Lucy asks, pushing the syrup on her plate with her fork.

"How's a girl get assigned to the DEO?"

Alex bites her coffee cup so hard she probably chips a tooth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to dip my toes into some of the things common in Alpha/Beta/Omega stories which I feel have some interesting tropes but one I'm not fan of is the "alphas have penises" trope. If I have an otherwise female character with a penis, I would prefer the character be trans so I can do them justice in that regard.
> 
> So Kara is more like a "Deltan" from Star Trek who is powerfully alluring to all sentient species and her body has the capacity to expel a semi-fertilized embryo into a female partner where it will try and implant in her womb. Her biology is non-standard, mostly in canon ways, and we'll get to that but it will be neither fully human, fully female or fully male.


	4. The Most Visceral of the Five Senses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you all I was itching to play with some of the edges of Alpha/Beta/Omega themes, like scent, difficulty of self-control, warring between instincts and 'society', protective behavior, etc. While the breeding, knotting and biting is nice, I think there's space for a parallel genre just in the psychology aspect of it. Depending on how well the next few chapters go as I explore that, I might end up remixing this story into something a bit different by blending it with a racier draft I have...

**Cat**

The private elevator to her office is exactly ninety-three seconds. Fast enough that a panic attack that starts on floor one will either stop or develop before floor seventy and she can panic-button out. Enough for three sips of espresso or to eat two fun-size Snicker the tabloids must never know about. Enough to text Carter a meme for him to see after school.

One tiny pocket of her workday that is off-camera, off-grid and without any expectations.

Since hiring Kara and being granted access to Lena's frankly terrifying research powers, it's enough to pull up some fanfic bookmarks on her phone to read over lunch. Today, she toggles into some favorites by 'Sunshine1969' and marks the sections she plans to use in the highlight tool.

The doors open and Kara Danvers is there, so close she doesn't even have to extend her arm to grab her coffee.

"Good morning, Miss Grant!"

"The whole point of a private elevator is that it is private, Kiera. Someone used it. Find out who and have them bathed and reprimanded. In that order."

Kara nods.

"Glad to!"

_Always glad, yes. That's the whole problem with you..._

Lena's relationship with Jess is the very image of professional respect and mentorship so Cat has no idea why Lena is so interested in having Cat bend Kara over her desk. Making matters worse is Kara's obvious eagerness to do any task, no matter how moronic, with zeal. She'd probably orgasm on the spot if Cat called her 'good girl' for any reason, platonic or otherwise. 

Making the whole thing fucking _dangerous_ is how sexy Kara is. She dresses down but as far as Cat's concerned, it's ineffective. Men are fooled, maybe. They might lose interest due to a lack of cleavage or thigh.

Cat has _studied_ and she has the benefit of time. One at a time, she has seen a dozen mouth-watering pieces of Kara these last three months. In the worst, hottest part of August, there was a sundress. Past the knee and conservatively sleeved but it exposed _neck_ , long and corded and disappearing into powerful muscles. Cat made a point of dropping something so she could pick it up after sending Kara away on a final errand of the day. She had the thrill of watching Kara's calves flex as she walked away. The setting sun flashed through a faint dusting of hair so soft and pale it never revealed itself without backlighting.

After strict orders from her therapist to 'lighten up' Cat finally allowed an employee lounge. It was a mistake. Not only did Lena show up for the inaugural foosball games, panty-dropping Irish accent and Irish National Team jersey and all, but Kara rolled up her shirtsleeves and tried out the dartboard and _sweet fuck_ the girl has arms. 

A regrettable Casual Friday with Kara in sweater and jeans made it spectacularly clear that four things are true.

Kara wouldn't know a decent bra if it jumped down her throat. Doubtful she knows what a push-up bra is and Kara is neither vain enough or fashion-aware enough to get breast implants . Even if she had, the kind surgery to get anything other than stuffing half a cantaloupe in there, let alone make them that believable looking is six figures. Cat has checked in the past. So those are _real_ and not even clothing-assisted. Cat cycled from jealousy to outrage to an embarrassing twinge between her legs.

Kara isn't aware panty lines are a risk. Even when her ass threatens to stretch out the poorly-cut denim.

Kara has curves Cat wants to suck on until she's short of breath and bite until her jaw is sore.

Kara doesn't know that 'fit' in clothing is about function not just form. The sweater rode crooked by late afternoon, revealing shoulderblades, trapezoids and deltoids that are a workplace safety hazard.

Cat managed to croak out 'go home and change' before she lost the power of speech.

There's a tapping sound. For some reason, there's a tapping sound.

"Are you all right, Miss Grant?"

Cat swallows. Kara was tapping a finger on the desk to get Cat's attention. Something smells _amazing_ in here. Like apple and cinnamon and smoke the more of it she gets in her lungs, the more she wishes she brought one of the discreet little bullet vibes to work.

"Umm..."

Kara has lowered her glasses, just a hair as if it will reveal something more about Cat's response. Just as the blonde, primly-dressed librarian in 'Dewey and Decadent' did before wrecking her photojournalist girlfriend on top of the card catalog. Just like in a story Cat knows Kara wrote and that Lena has viewed 173 times, she confessed.

"If you need to go sit down, I can bring you some mango-kiwi tea. It's a favorite of mine."

Just like it was a favorite of the photojournalist, _not_ the librarian character.

_Does she know? Does that mean I'm supposed to be the domme, if it's her favorite tea?_

"Please," Cat gulps. "And then I need to see you in my office...twenty minutes."

Kara nods, smiles and heads off.

Cat scrambles into her office, locks the door and dials Lena's private line.

"Hello, kitty," Lena huffs.

Cat chuckles.

"Which one?"

"Diana is watching while Eteria mmm-"

Cat can see it now. The demoness' clawed hands clenched around Lena's ass, holding her up effortlessly. Wings bracketing Lena, preventing escape as they encircle her. Purple flames coating her and consuming Lena's clothes, painlessly dancing over the skin. Her long, powerful tongue lashing a nipple or the collarbone while the narrow, smooth, rock-hard tip of her tail slides into the mouth, searing and wrapped in some wicked magic. Like being throatfucked with a dildo made of cocaine.

Catholic schoolgirls never do recover from the need to be punished. Cat knows this all too well.

"Speaker, please."

"Mmm."

"Etty, get your tail out of Lena's throat so I can talk to her."

There's no immediate response until Diana's curt command in Greek and then there's a gasp and a wicked moan and finally, a smacking of the lips carries over the line.

"Not funny, Cat. I was close."

"I need advice!"

"About?" 

Cat shivers.

"I think Kara just hit on me. And she, or something here, smells _really good_ and I can smell stuff I shouldn't be able to. I just realized this coffee cup smells plasticky. I'm losing my mind, or getting brain cancer or something..."

Lena chuckles.

"No, sweet thing, you just really want Kara to fuck you. So get to it. You know the drill: three-axis review, one-to-ten scoring. We'll talk at home."

"Love you," Cat mumbles.

For the first time in more than a decade, she says it. She didn't say it to Carter's father after their first year.

"Love you too, kitty. Go make her purr."


	5. There is Power in Fetching Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: transphobic comment

**Kara**

Voicemail.

Kara dials again, trying to stop bouncing her leg. It doesn't work so she switches her rhythm before the building suffers an unfortunate re-enactment of the Tacoma Narrows bridge collapse.

"Come on, come on, Alex!"

Voicemail.

"Fuck!" Kara snarls.

There's a knock on the door.

"You all right?" comes a sweet, cooing voice. 

The asker is wearing bright yellow Converses and her sparkly handbag drops into view with a tampon poking out, just in reach of a discreet grab without having to ask. One of the new interns. Kara has met her but the name is escaping her. It feels wild to call them new but given that she's already holding a record for longest-serving assistant, she supposes it fits.

_Nia, that's it. Wait...Nia? Nia has a buddy tampon in her bag? Talk about sisterhood._

"Nia, no, I'm fine. Thank you though."

"Ugh, how does she know your name already?" another voice gripes.

"Because we're both gourmets, Siobhan. That's how. We swap recipes."

"What the fuck ever, Betty _Cocker_."

Kara hears Nia's inhalation, a little gasp of shame. Her spine stiffens and phantom pins sink into her arms, making her want to move. To act. Everything waves and crackles at the edges of her vision. Her fingernails dig into her palms.

She boots the stall door open.

Nia startles.

Siobhan fucking _yelps_ and it feels good to scare her.

"Don't. Move. Either of you."

Nia's head bobs. Siobahn just fails to function. Mouth opens. Mouth closes. Process repeats.

"Apologize, Siobahn. Now."

"I don't know what you're talking abou-"

"The brand is Betty Crocker. With an 'r' not like how you'd said and since you're a Stanford graduate, you'd know that," Kara drawls, taking a half-step towards her prey.

"Since you said what you said, I think you're someone who likes to be nasty to anyone who does better, at anything, just so you feel like you're better. Since Nia is so brave as to be trans and out at work, you had to know exactly how it would hurt her. You maybe even thought you'd get away with it since she's nice."

"Am...I...getting...warmer?"

"Yes," Siobahn whispers, eyes shut tight.

 _Take this one,_ some ancient voice in her head whispers. _Soft one. Loyal one. Brave one. One who shares food with us. One with scars. Scars are proof of power. Leave the pretty one. Pretty proves nothing..._

"Kara!" Nia calls out, loosening whatever trance slid down over her mind. Whatever just made her want to break Siobahn in half and throw herself at Nia to make babies.

"Siobahn, go. We'll write this up as a first warning incident when I get upstairs. I suspect you already have one strike. If no one says anything else, I won't have to make it two strikes."

"You're not my boss!" Siobahn shrieks. "You're just a secretary! You fetch her coffee."

"Exactly. You will have to talk to Cat about this. We all will. But I'll be the one who decides whether there's too much milk in it before you walk into Cat's office. I decide if they use butterscotch or that fancy Italian syrup and I know which of those two she hates and which will put her in a good mood when you discuss this incident with her. Because it just became a second strike."

Siobahn blinks.

"What?"

"Physically aggressive at work."

Kara nods to the mirror.

Nia's sheltering against a wall behind Kara. Siobhan is arm's length with the door and Kara is between them, easily two paces from Siobahn. Yet the one leaning towards and gesturing aggressively is Siobahn. 

"You were shrieking insults about my unimportance and all I'm doing to you..."

Kara nods at the sink.

"Is trying to get an apology and maybe wash my hands."

Siobahn stomps off.

"Is it bad that I found that kinda hot?" Nia mumbles. 

"I'm flattered," Kara jokes.

"Just...give me like a week before we talk about it. Far as I knew before, I was straight..."

Kara huffs.

"When and if you're comfortable. Only if you want to. And I think I'd need to be drunk to have that talk with HR, so like, a Friday afternoon maybe."

Kara ushes the door open, then thinks better of it, leaning back in.

"And Nia? Butterscotch. For Cat, Hershey's will do just fine. Don't tell anyone..."

She puts a finger to her lips.

Nia's smile is like the sunrise.


	6. Go (Verb) Your Desk

**Cat**

Cat braces her palms against her desk and stiffens her arms. She can do this. She's bedded hot blondes half her age before, more than once, during the training montage Lena put her through during her coming out. 

That was anonymous. That was sliding into the seat next to them with a smile and a complaint about boyfriends and whatever girl just walked off. That was, at least once, meeting a sex worker because Lena believes in normalizing _all_ forms of nonviolent commerce.

This is Kara. This is Kara who oohed at a picture of Carter so genuinely that the red-line and the urge to fire her just died. This is Kara who orders crazy, disgusting burgers and Mexican food and Chinese and _all the things_ women are taught not to eat because they might get fat and the fact she hasn't seems downright inhuman...and then she glances up, waits for Cat to nod and discreetly slides a couple of bites of whatever delicious, fatty, sinful thing she's eating onto Cat's typical lunch salad.

She's not sure which hurts worse: the fact that Kara might turn her down or the fact that she might not.

On one side, feeling like abusive slime. Exactly the kind of men she hates.

On the other side, letting Kara go _professionally_ so she can have her _personally_ and with each passing day she forgets more and more how she did this without her.

Two papers sit on her desk. One is an NDA and a trust fund drawn up by her personal lawyer on top of a severance packet and a firing notice with no cause and a sticky note with some possible next steps for Kara. The one Cat's eyes keep going to, betraying her, is the deed to a small condo near the university and the professional equivalent of Cat putting a gun in her mouth: admitting she bedded her assistant and bought her a love nest. Typical alpha male bullshit.

There's a knock on the inside of the door. Patterned. Do-re-mi. Because of course, her angelic assistant knocks on door frames in a musical way.

"You wanted to see me, Miss Grant?" Kara asks.

Cat looks. Kara would make an excellent Napa Valley barista or book store owner in that outfit. Gray sweater and comfy, almost baggy jeans and a big, soft leather belt melding them together. Her right sleeve is rolled up and for once, it isn't the muscles or the way the angel-dust hairs there dance in the low afternoon sun. It's red ink. There's some markings in ballpoint.

_She wasn't carrying a notepad when I mentioned I needed to arrange a sitter for Carter._

Kara. Perfect, guileless, too-pure-for-this-world Kara marked her luminous flesh with a cheap Bic so she would remember to help Cat remember to make sure her son has someone waiting when he gets home.

Cat starts to tremble. She is about to break a thirty-year streak of not crying at work, she just knows it.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Kara shushes, hurrying over. "Whatever it is, you'll get through it. You're the strongest woman I know."

Kara's hands land on her shoulder and squeeze. Telling Cat she's not alone. It's sacred. It's a wonder of the world. It's Cat staring up at a statue of Venus towering over Rome except it's not granite, no matter how solid it feels. It's Kara's big, gentle hands.

"I'm sorry," Kara mumbles. "I was coming to report something and I guess word got up to you somehow anyway..."

Kara sighs.

"I was a little mean to Siobahn, come to think. Shoot. No hard feelings, Miss Grant. I'll go clean out my desk."

_The fuck? Who the fuck is Siobhan?_

Something sizzles in Cat's veins. Fire snakes out in hot threads from every one of Kara's fingertips. When she tries to let go, Cat puts her own hands over Kara's and tilts her head, nuzzling her cheek on the back of Kara's hand. The smell is unreal. The more of Kara she smells, the more her skin lights up. There should be no way the inside of her blouse provides this much friction, not with how much she paid for the silk but _fuck_ if that isn't a delicious, scratchy drag she can feel on her nipples.

"Kara, shut the fuck up. Take off your clothes and get on my desk."

Kara blinks, tilting her head.

"So you're not firing me? I'm so confused."

"I have to!" Cat wails. "I...it's not fair to you if you're my employee."

Kara should be screaming. Yelling at Cat about inappropriate touching. Throwing Cat off her and calling HR. 

"Yeah. We have to fix that," Kara sighs. "Guess my last act as an assistant is going to be saving you from yourself. Which is fine by me," Kara chuckles.

"Why don't you..." Kara purrs, her eyes suddenly fucking _glowing_ and they're not that soft, spring sky blue. The color is brighter and more intense, like a highway diner's neon sign in the middle of the desert.

Her voice is different too. Lower. Steadier. Harder, but not colder.

"Call that sitter for Carter. I'll go scrape my desk into my purse. When I come back, I want you bent over your desk. Sound good, darling?"

"You go _mount_ your desk while I go _clean_ my desk," Kara growls.

"Holy fuck," Cat mumbles to herself. "Gayer than I realized..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's important to have a wide vocabulary!


	7. An Admission and a Relocation

**Cat**

The desk is smoother than she remembers. Too smooth. She needs more. The rim is polished aluminum and she's so slick that she can't even grind on it. She managed to ruck her skirt up enough to get her bare mound on the desk but all she's doing is smearing. Last night, as she washed Cat down, Lena gushed about "frictionless materials" as a holy grail of engineering. Materials so slippery they moved without friction, without heat. Violated the rules. Never possible but chasing it yielded its own rewards.

Kara promising to fuck her on her own desk just made her so wet it made the impossible possible.

The glass is cool but Kara didn't ask her to disrobe so she can only feel that on her hands and her arms.

_How the fuck did she do this to me?_

"Cat, you all right?" Kara calls out, sweetly, carefully, so the rest of the office can't hear. She must've done something to the computers because Winn ran off. No one else has line-of-sight to her office except the C-Suite at LordTech tower and _fuck them_ if they get to watch this. Let those perverts be jealous of how much hotter _her_ secretary is.

"Cat, please tell me you're all right."

"M'horny," Cat whines.

"Oh, baby..." Kara coos. "I didn't mean for it to be so hard."

She comes towards, barefoot. Shaking her hair out. There's no fucking way that hair is natural. If felt puffy as cotton candy, bouncy as India rubber and smooth as cashmere in her hands. It smelled _only_ like that panty-ruining scent all over Kara skin. The skin she greedily rubbed her face on. 

"Just a minute, Cat, okay? Then I'm going to make you feel so good, Mis-"

Kara shivers.

"Darling."

"Did you just call me mistress?"

Kara blushes.

"It's, uh, a language from my home country. It's not mistress like whips and fuck-me-boots but not saying no to that. It's more like the mistress of a castle. There's no good English translation and I realized that as I said it. Not without like, an essay-length explanation..."

Kara comes up behind her.

"I don't want to scare you, kitty, OK?"

_Only my mom calls me kitty and I hate it. I hate it except I didn't just now. I liked it._

Something runs down her thighs. She can hear a wet sound, like a towel dropped to the floor. Whatever Kara did to her, she can know _hear_ her wetness dripping from her. 

"Kitty, straighten up... _mmmyes..._ just like that. Good girl."

A finger traces Cat's spine from top to bottom.

"Your posture is so regal. Sexy. You are such a good example. A good mom. You already make an amazing _byshahkh_ for Carter. For your children. For my children. I know you still bleed, Cat. Maybe not so often as when you were younger, _Rao_ I can't imagine what it would be like to have had you, always had you but then no Carter and he's a gift to the world."

A tear rolls down Cat's face to splash on the desk.

"But I really want to find out. I want to make you love me so much that you want a baby with me. I want to fill you with little kittens. Polite, caring little boys and little girls so strong and smart that people will tremble."

 _Oh hell on an ass-fucked cracker!_ Cat panics. _She wants to knock me up? Is that even possible?_

It probably is. Kara's not human. She can't be. She can eat probably twenty thousand calories in a fucking sitting and then comes into work looking like a statue of Venus the sculptor gave up on for being too muscular. She's never once missed one of Cat's bellowed commands and when Morgan Edge tried to grab her ass once, Kara just stiffened. Edge left the building in an ambulance with his hand in a cast.

Cat wanted to ask but it wasn't her secret. She's the editor for their social justice section. She knows just how bad it is for aliens right now.

"Hmm," Kara hums. Her hands snap forward, fast, like striking snakes and powerful, long fingers and broad palms mold themselves to her hips. It's probably the only thing keeping her from a panic attack. As good as this is going to be she'd rather feel it inside her body. Not dissociating.

"You feel good."

"What's a _byshahkh_?" Cat asks. Stalling. Stalling to let her own brain process.

"It's an archaic idiom. She-rock, is close. The rock of the family. Sort of like a matriarch."

"What language?" Cat asks. Cat _begs._ "I want to feel you, Kara. All over me. I won't touch your body if you're afraid to tell me about your body."

Instead of answering, twin beams of hot blue _something_ lance into Cat's desk.

In a half-dozen quick slashes, Superman's symbol is etched into the glass.

"Oh...my...god," Cat croaks.

"Mmm. Take a step back, Cat. Sit on my lap."

Cat complies.

"I want you in my bed. I want to..."

Kara's lips drag along her neck, like she's tasting her. Along the carotid artery. As if she could taste the heat in Cat's blood.

"I want to make my whole bed smell like you. I'm going to protect you, so you can keep your job here. And when you go to work, I'm going to curl up into sheets and pillows and just breathe you in. So that I'm full of love and feeling and _want_ when you get home. Wear comfy shoes. Maybe switch on your way home. I don't want to ruin your collection when I take you before you get three steps in the door."

"Fuck," Cat growls. "Yes."

She'd considered keeping Kara. Like a mistress or a housewife. She'd never expected _Kara_ to want the same. 

"You should go first. So that you have a baby while you still can. Then I want yours, Cat. I want you to give me _unah_ , _i nah_, _aonah_ like me. I want to get fat with your little ones. You're the queen of all media. You need heirs."

"This is fast, Kara. I don't know how you can want all this. How can you know you want it? With a foolish old woman?"

"Short version? I can barely stand how _sexy_ , how _impressive_ you are, physically, mentally, professionally. I have been changing my panties at my 10:15 break and at lunch, imagining it. I have since the third week. I'm oversharing because I'm in _heat_ right now. Say the word and I'll spend a week getting fucked into jelly by you. And love every minute of it."

"What's the word?" Cat asks, feeling _very_ inadequate right now. 

If that symbol means anything other than 'S' which, apparently, it does, Kara...this _goddess_ who lights up like an angel in the sun...wants to putter around the apartment, barefoot, pregnant, and loving it.

Cat's only human.

"Yes."

"Then yes, Kara."

"Kara Zor-El, pleased to meet you."

Cat's body feels like a loose wire that fell into a swimming pool. All vibration and heat and little flashes of arousal so sharp it makes flashes behind her eyes. She shaking so hard she's amazed her limbs haven't fallen off like tires whose bolts wiggled out.

Surprised she's not dead, frankly.

Kara's lips press into the back of Cat's neck, along the kobs of her spine. Kara's big, powerful, _glowing_ hand is held up near Cat's mouth. She licks it. Instinct. She's blaming instinct. 

"Bite my fist, Cat. I'm going to take the edge off."

Cat does as she's told. She is going to be doing what she's told for quite a while. She can tell.

"How do you like it?" Kara asks. Her breath is searing, steamy, _wet_ on the skin of Cat's neck and it joins the sweat running down Cat's spine. "I wish I could be on my knees for you but there's no space. Do you like fingers on your clit? Do you want me inside you too?"

Cat opens her mouth and then covers Kara's right hand with her own.

"Palm wrapped around me. One finger. Thumb on my clit. Pressure _only_ until I tell you I want more."

Kara's hand covers Cat's mound easily. Her middle finger -- how appropriate -- covers Cat's slit top to bottom. 

"Good?"

Cat's reply isn't a word. It's not fully human to her ears.

"Well, then! I'm going to fuck you slow. Carter's with the babysitter for three more hours."

"Oh, God."

Kara chuckles.

"God can't help you right now, Cat," she teases.

"I want to put my finger inside you, now. I want it so bad. I want to feel you flutter around me, feel your pulse in your walls. I want to feel how hot you are when you come. I want to hear the noises you make. Want to see how you move. Please?"

"I want to call in sick tomorrow," Cat snaps. "I want you to stop fucking _teasing_ and make it so I can't walk. I want you to take me to that lovenest I just bought you and destroy me."

The middle finger crooks and it slides into Cat without an ounce of friction. Without a whisper of resistance.

"I've learned there's a spot on the front of human women's walls. I want you to help me find it, OK?"

Cat sinks back and Kara's finger slips, slides, almost all the way out. Then repeats, on the other side of her. 

All that exists is Kara's gentle, precise, _methodical_ swipes. Up, down. Left, right. Searching. Making it impossible to miss.

Then Kara finds it and Cat's clit is swelling into Kara's palm, creating a pinprick of heat. So hot, so swollen, hurting so sweetly that she hisses. Kara changes the curl of her hand so Cat can roll her hips if she wants that contact again.

"Good girl, kitty. I want you to come for me..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Science notes:**  
>  Kryptonians are tri-gendered: female, male and neither. In High Houses, it is typical for the female embryos to be altered to trigger the _aorosh_ to develop and the uterus and ovarian organs to produce generic proto-fetuses rather than simple gametes.
> 
> Such individuals have always existed. When early Kryptonians first developed words, they knew they needed male, female and non-binary nouns. Trans people have always existed...
> 
> At the start of the Third Expansion (the "Bloodless Age") a genetic engineer decided that High House ladies needed to be able to please, take pleasure from, and breed or be bred by any sexually-reproducing, internally-fertile intelligent species. If it doesn't just split off its babies and carries them inside until they're born, it's compatible. Why should only the boys get to sire a new house, a new line, a new _nation_ in their own image?
> 
> **Translations:**
> 
> byshahkh - stone with a feminine prefix  
> unah - "offspring" noun, feminine-gendered  
> inah - "offspring", noun, masculine-gendered  
> aonah - "offspring", noun, non-gendered


	8. Tunafish and Treason

**Alex**

Lucy Lane is puking her guts out in the toilet and Kara never came home from work. This feels like it should be a Kara problem -- her price for having a foursome last night -- but being a big sister taught Alex to never turn her back.

Alex tiptoes up to the bathroom door and knocks.

"You all right, hot stuff?"

The answer is not intelligible.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

Cracking the door, she sees Lucy curled, spent and slimy with sweat.

"What happened, hot stuff?"

"There was..."

Lucy dry-heaves. The doctor in Alex is worried she's going to start losing stomach lining. 

_Oh, dear god._

"Lucy, did you eat any of that sandwich I made you?"

_Please please please say yes._

"Smelled bad."

_Tuna fish smelled bad._

"Are you allergic to tuna or to anything in tuna salad, Lucy?"

"No," she croaks. "I usually can't get enough."

Alex throws one of the bath towels in the tub and starts the water up, cranked all the way to cold. Once it's sodden, she takes it out and wrings it.

"Here, let me."

Alex wipes Lucy's forehead and her shoulders and her back.

"Better?"

"Yeah, a bit. Thanks."

Alex swallows. No time like the present."

"Lucy, do you know that an aversion to fish is one of the _first_ signs of morning sickness?"

Lucy slumps back, failing to catch herself and sort of oozing onto the tiles.

"Fuck. Kara knocked me up."

"That's nonsense," Alex replies, too quick and too hard to be believable.

"Well, the guy she lets me invite wore a condom just like he always does, my IUD should have helped and human jizz isn't _fucking purple,_ and the fact that I woke up sloshing with the stuff says otherwise. So yeah, I'm going with the alien superstud with the baby blues."

"How...I hate to even think this but," Alex shuts her eyes tight. "What's a timetable here? When were you with Kara and when was your last period?"

"God, every time they let me off base for a court case and...phew...six weeks?"

Lucy laughs, weakly and softly.

"Someone's gonna be an aunty..." she signs.

"Someone's gonna be an aunty..."

"I will fucking _smother_ you with a pillow if you don't shut up."

Lucy gasps.

"You would kill your own niece?"

\-----

Alex isn't pregnant and this situation is a lot so she is going to get hammered before she has to look the repercussions face on.

She grabs her phone and dials Hank.

"Director Henshaw speaking."

"I need to get a sitrep on the raid in Peru," Alex replies.

It's like Russian Roulette. If Hank Henshaw managed to replace J'onn, even for a day, and she asks this question, she is a dead woman walking.

"Situation Green, Agent Danvers."

Alex exhales. The line is clean and no one is eavesdropping.

"We need to move up the timetable, sir. Way up."

"Why?"

"I've told you about Kara's...lifestyle, yes?"

J'onn huffs.

"By the standards of her home and her privilege, she's a nun."

"Well, I have a human female with morning sickness says otherwise. Seven months, tops."

"Alex!" J'onn all but squeals. "Congratulations. I will move Heaven, Earth and Mars."

Alex sniffs.

"Thank you. The DEO has to be gone when that baby is born."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Canon Divergence Note:**
> 
> This Alex is more than aware of how fucked up the DEO arrangement is. She is not going to let Kara be sucked into it and she and J'onn are working on destabilizing it, finding loyal agents (like Susan Vasquez) with actual morals and getting ready to ruin it.
> 
> This is a version of the sister bond where Alex and Kara reconnected hard after their respective spirals in college and grad school. Alex would rather burn the DEO to the ground and end up homeless, unemployed or in a black site than risk Kara's baby being their target.


	9. Not a Comic Book Villian, Lex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE AUTHOR NEEDS FLUFF!!!
> 
> I've never gotten to write established, cozy SuperCorp so here we go, with a twist...

* * *

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

* * *

**Lena**

_This isn't a fortress,_ Lena thinks. _It's a temple._

"It's glorious, Kara."

"Glad you dressed warmly?" Kara teases.

"Mmm, my hands are cold, actually."

Kara walks up behind her. Powerful arms snake around Lena's midsection, so carefully she can barely feel them. Warmth blooms over her belly as Kara rubs her own hands together at superspeed.

"A moment to cool, love, then they're all yours."

Lena's too eager. She nearly burns herself trying to wind her fingers into Kara's.

"Easy!" Kara jokes, pressing a plump-lipped, sloppy, lazy kiss to the juncture of Lena's neck and shoulder.

"Are you sure, baby?"

Lena shivers in Kara's arms. If she weren't right here, getting a glimpse into Kara's most cherished memories while Kara's unbreakable body curled around her, the answer would be no.

"We have to stop him, Kara. Forever."

Kara half guides, half carries her to the control panel. The blue-and-silver attendant bot Kara built for herself swoops over.

"Kara Zor-El, how may I assist you?"

"Grant Lena Luthor access. Full access. Equivalent to mine. Allow her to take any action that does not harmfully contradict my own or Kal's. Prepare a sunstone and have it sent to these coordinates..."

Kara taps in the destination.

"That's the moon, Kara!"

"No. It's escape velocity, headed to deep space. It's going to a polar orbit of Venus. Only home for someone so beautiful..."

"Romantic," Lena teases.

"Besides, think how much easier it will be for me to eat you out if you can just float around at mouth level all the time. Bedrooms, kitchen, all those will have gravity and it'll be perfectly safe for our whole family."

Lena scoffs.

"That's why you had me build warp coils even though you said it would be a 'vacation home' in Fiji."

"Mmm," Kara purrs into Lena's neck. "Also, designing those technically makes you the first human to be a citizen of the Coalition but who's counting..."

"Anything else, Lady Kara?"

"Cancel Mirage program and load Golden Cage, then reboot Myriad."

* * *

**Lex**

Having the Kryptonian dead at his feet is sweeter than he could possibly imagine. Both of them. The Fortress is his now.

Lena's pathetic wailing echos off the ice. Just as he suspected, she retained some sentimental spark for the female. Her venomous speech was powerful, if sickening in its feminine tremor.

If she were a threat, he'd kill her next.

"Computer!" Lex calls out. "Show me my world."

Metropolis is in flames. Serves them right for worshipping that blue demon.

National City is faring little better, though its citizens did have the good sense to bow to the Lexobots patrolling the streets.

Paris is staring up at the Eiffel tower where Wonder Woman's body hangs lifeless from the spire. 

He hasn't had an emotion this strong in ages. Is this what they call being giddy?

Pain flares behind his eyes. The world spins and spins and spins and he feels the vomit coming up.

\-----

He opens his eyes to feet. Six, to be precise. Four red boots and two fur-trimmed winter boots.

"Hello, dear brother," Lena purrs.

"No!" he shrieks. "I killed them! I had you at my mercy!"

Lena laughs.

"No, you silly little boy. I've defeated you. My plans are in motion now, unstoppable. Inevitable as the tides. If only you had been a bit more perceptive."

"I...know...everything! NO ONE TRICKS ME!"

The tsk-tsk sound is much like Lillian's. Lena must have learned it there.

"Lex, I tricked you. And I made sure you wouldn't see it."

"How?"

"Do you think I'd tell you my plans while they were still in motion, while there was the tiniest chance you can win? I'm not a comic book villain, Lex. I defeated you the day I met Kara."

"Are you sure about this, Kara?" Superman rumbles.

The confident and even tenor makes Lex's stomach churn.

"It's the best option, Kal. If we lock Myriad onto Lex's brainwaves, he can live in whatever fantasy he likes. Life in prison. I rewired it so it can't be used for anything else while he's alive. No one can control the world with it unless they kill him. I'll put him in next to Binky so that if his containment fails, it'll spray him with frozen helium and drop the barrier."

"Feeding him to a Suneater. Letting him be food monster...which isn't our style, right Kara?"

"Right."

Lena crouches down so she can see his face.

"Goodbye, Lex. Kara has a prenatal checkup. Who knows? Maybe we'll name one after you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon DIvergence Note:
> 
> Everything up to 5x07 is "canon" except it was an illusion created by Kara and Lena to trap Lex until they could conclusively defeat him, CADMUS and Leviathan. The population of Earth was excluded except for their friends and family, who will now have the memories gradually removed by J'onn.
> 
> This is partially for comedy purposes and partially so that we can now rewind to those years, living them with our girls without a need for any near-misses with death.  
> Author's Note:
> 
> Honestly, the second Lena learned about Myriad she should've asked Kara if they could use it to non-lethally contain Lex. That thing can make puppets of seven billion humans at once. It can surely put one man, however brilliant, in his own fantasy land.


End file.
